


Something In The Way

by Stirling



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Control, F/M, Porn, Romance, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-30 07:44:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8524441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stirling/pseuds/Stirling
Summary: John knows who's really in control





	

The first time she comes to him, John isn’t surprised because he doesn’t understand what it means.

 

Teyla’s standing there at his door, and he invites her in because he knows she can hardly breathe for fear of what ifs. Kanaan and Torren have been missing for five days, disappeared from New Athos, and it’s all she can do to keep it together.

 

She steps in and he waits, awkward, knowing what’s coming next. Sure enough, she moves into his arms and he feels that grating sensation he’s felt before, of holding something that you shouldn't.

 

He pats her back because he knows now that’s what he’s supposed to do. She doesn’t expect words, because he doesn't have any; they’ve done this before. He can’t imagine the sense of horror she feels as a mother, and he’d like to think she doesn’t feel quite as much for Kanaan, but he knows better. John has seen the way she looks at the Athosian man, the complete absorption that she’s never shown for anyone else.

 

She stirs and he lifts his arms to let her go, but she doesn’t move, just clings a little closer and he thinks how physically lonely she must feel, alone in her quarters. He pats her back again, once, and she shifts closer, pushing up against him. Something in him goes still as she presses further, her breasts a perilous weight against him.

 

He clears his throat. “Teyla,” he murmurs, moving to step away, but her hands are tight on his shoulders and he stops.

 

“John. Please.”

 

He realizes what she’s asking, perhaps more than she does, and he’s stunned. He never wanted it this way, and his mind revolts, but his body is already responding to her. How can he refuse her this one thing, after all she’s done, after all they’ve been to each other? He can give her this, if nothing else; push her nightmares away even if for just a few moments.

 

“You sure about this?” His voice is steady but his hands are not. Her only answer is a nod against his chest, and something cold in him gives way.

 

He makes love to her as though it’s the last time, not the first. He wants to go down on her, taste her, but he knows she needs to be filled, held, soothed. He moves above her, arms around her, thrusting into her again and again until she cries out in a relief that’s tinged with desperation. He pulls out and finishes on the sheets between her legs, gritting his teeth against the sound that wants to rise from his throat.

 

He draws her close, threading his hand through her hair as their breathing slows. He feels himself drifting away and fights sleep but can’t ward it off. Hours later he starts awake in the dark room and reaches out to touch her. The sheets are already cold.

 

+++

 

The second time she comes, he’s definitely surprised. When he answers the chime at his door and sees the look on her face, something in him hardens and he turns without a word and walks away, but doesn’t shut the doors on her, either.

 

He sits on the edge of the bed, facing her, suddenly exhausted.

 

“Can I do something for you?” He tries to keep the bitterness out of his voice, not really caring when he doesn’t succeed.

 

She walks across the room, comes to a stop in front of him, and lifts his chin with a finger.

 

“Do you want me to leave, John?” Her voice is low and soft enough to keep him from throwing her out, and he closes his eyes in resignation.

 

“No,” he sighs, and shivers when she runs her hands through his hair, fingernails scraping gently along his scalp.

 

Two weeks has been long enough for him to almost pretend the last time hadn’t happened. When he had seen her the next morning in the mess hall, he knew the gratitude he acknowledged in her level gaze was the only reference they would ever make to what had happened. Later that day, a triumphant Ronon had returned with Kanaan and Torren, battered and frightened, but whole. John had watched her closely as Kanaan pulled her to him, and her expression told him what he already knew—to forget last night.

 

Now he reaches for her, grazes his hand up the outside of her thigh, and she moves to straddle his lap, hands still in his hair, sending tingles from his scalp straight to his balls.

 

“Where’s Kanaan?”

 

“Not here,” she responds tartly.

 

Suddenly he’s angry. Angry that she’s asking this of him, angry that he wants her anyway, and he undresses her unceremoniously, tugging her clothes off to leave her naked in front of him. She makes no protest and he turns her, pushing her onto the bed, nudging his knees into the back of hers so that she falls onto the bed on all fours.

 

He’s breathing hard and fumbles with his belt with one hand while he fingers her with the other. She’s wet so he pulls his already hard cock out and pushes into her abruptly. She gasps and it almost undoes him when he feels her push back against him, clearly wanting more, so he gives it to her. Fucks her hard, standing behind her as she kneels on the bed, touching herself and panting.

 

It’s raw and wrong and explosive and exactly what he wants. He bends over her and cups her breasts, tweaks her nipples, licks at her spine, and she arches into his mouth, hissing. Driving into her as hard as he dares, he comes first, hard, grunting as his balls contract almost painfully between her legs. He continues to thrust into her, then bites down on the tender skin at the side of her neck and she moans, bucks against him, then orgasms violently around his still hard cock.

 

When he pulls from her, she collapses on the bed and rolls on her back to face him. Standing over her, he takes in her flushed cheeks and swollen lips and feels only a little guilty for being so rough.

 

“You okay?”

 

She nods. “I am fine.”

 

“I’ll be right back.” He grabs a towel from the chair next to the bed and heads to the bathroom. Once he shuts the door, the coolness of the tile on his feet and the silence of the small space calm his racing pulse, but his eyes slide away from his own gaze in the mirror as he wonders how something so quick and dirty could make his chest ache like it does.

 

When he emerges from the bathroom ten minutes later, toweling down his hair, he’s almost relieved to find the room empty.

 

+++

 

The third time, John feels resignation settle over him. She’s standing there in the door, neither says a word, and he motions for her to come in.

 

Her pull is inexorable; he might as well try to stop the tides from turning. She is as the city to him: in his veins, responsive to his touch. He is in the pilot’s seat but under no illusion as to who is in control.

 

He pulls her close, breathes in the scent of her hair, her skin... all the things that don't belong to him. He kisses her til he loses his breath and she comes up for air, leaning into him in a way that constricts his throat with an ache. Teyla draws him to the bed and he follows with no resistance, pulling away their clothes and allowing his hands to do to her the things he thinks about when he's alone.

 

Naked, she straddles him, but he sits up to hold her close as they move together. He looks at her, moving above him, the light behind her a halo that doesn't hide the burning desire in her eyes. Burying his face in her throat, he thrusts up into her, presses her against him as tightly as he dares, and loses himself in the slide of her skin, the rush of her breath, the grip of her body around him.

 

They start to slip over the edge together, and she's whispering his name against his ear. That's all it takes for him to come, and she's coming too, both of them in a rush of sound and movement.

 

Something in him loosens, and John lets go like never before, knowing that this is all he'll ever have of her and letting go anyway. She droops against him, still breathing hard, and they collapse together onto the bed. John is aware of the lights above them dimming as he drifts to sleep, and he resists the urge to pull her close; knowing that when he wakes, she'll be gone.

 

+++

 

Morning finds John awakening gradually to the sound of the shower. He shakes his head to clear the dreams from his mind, but the sound persists. He realizes it's real only when the water shuts off and Teyla walks into the room, wearing a few drops of water and a sleepy look.

 

"You're here," he says, managing at the last moment to not make it a question.

 

"Yes," she smiles, and sits beside him on the bed, knee brushing his.

 

"Aren't you... isn't..." John trails off, unsure of what it is he means ask.

 

Teyla takes a deep breath and looks out the window for a moment then back to him. "Why am I here?" she prompts, the smile taking the edge off of it. John just nods.

 

"John, Kanaan and I ended our romantic relationship some time ago."

 

He's stunned and tries to smother the hope that rises in his chest. "Why didn't you say anything?"

 

"You did not ask. Athosian women do not live with their lovers."

 

John nods and his arm slips around her waist. "Are you calling me your lover?" He grins, trying to be casual. He'll take whatever he can get from Teyla, and this is more than he dreamed.

 

She snorts at him. "If you can keep up," she says shortly, and pushes him onto his back.


End file.
